I'll Be the Wings
by KokoroNoKage
Summary: Ulquiorra lived his life as a routine, the same thing day after day after day. When a phone call introduces something big, blue, and annoying into his life, he slowly learns that maybe, just maybe, not all change is bad. AU GrimUlqui
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** I'll Be the Wings

**Author's Note:** This plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone. And while I usually try to avoid anything that isn't a oneshot, this has been badgering me until I gave in. One of the first chapter fics I've ever done. Hopefully, I'll get off my lazy ass and actually finish this one, but who knows?

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Bleach, any of the characters or even the title, as it belongs to the amazing Tite Kubo and the awesome band Mayday Parade respectively.

**Warnings:** This story will contain boy on boy action. You know, eventually. The rating is also subject to change, depending on how far I'm willing to embarrass myself and attempt to write smut. This story is unbeta-ed. Don't say I didn't warn you.

* * *

Ulquiorra Cifer lived a very organized, scheduled and predictable life.

He woke up at 6 am sharp, took a shower and was eating breakfast by 6:45. He would drive to school on the weekdays and work on the weekends, arrive by 7:00 give or take two or three minutes due to traffic.

At 2:36, he would drive home, fix himself a small snack and finish whatever work needed to be done for the day. At 6:30 pm, he would start the necessary preparations for a dinner for one. Afterwards, he would do some light reading until 9 o'clock, at which time he would promptly go to bed.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

Some might call it boring, but Ulquiorra liked his life the way it was. He hated surprises of any sort and was thrown off by even the tiniest change in schedule. He believed in perfection and control over every aspect of his own life.

None of this explained why he was currently standing in front of a rundown nightclub with the dubious name of The Humping Dog at one in the morning on this particular freezing March night.

But Ulquiorra knew exactly who to blame. Oh, he knew who to blame alright. It was the same person who forcibly shoved his way into his quiet life, turned his world upside down and completely shattered his carefully constructed schedule like so much trash.

Yes, _Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez._

* * *

Several months earlier…

_There was moonlight stretching out across the endless sea of sand, a perpetual night that put one on edge and feel the latent power hiding in wait._

_He strolled along, unbothered by such petty troubles. He knew he was the strongest thing out here and relished in the thrill of the predator hunting its prey._

_He spotted one, not far to his left, foolishly straying further and further from its group. He circled slowly, feeling the feral smile that came unbidden to his lips. He watched carefully for any sign of alarm, but this one seemed to be especially stupid as it was still completely unaware and sniffing something in the sand…_

_He flexed his hands experimentally and slowly bent his legs. This was it…Just a little more…_

_With a snarl ripping past his lips, he launched forward, headed straight for the creature's-_

RIIIINNNNGGG!

_-and there was red, red everywhere and the screams of-_

RIIIINNNNGGG!

_-could feel the last breath gushing out of damaged- _

RIIIINNNNGGG!

And Ulquiorra woke with a groan, the surprisingly pleasant dream quickly fading from memory, and stared at the mocking red numbers on his bedside table that proclaimed '2:06 am'.

Who the _fuck_ called people at 2 in the morning?

RIIIINNNNGGG!

With a deft movement that belied his sleep fogged mind, he snatched the phone from its cradle and brought it to his ear.

"What. In the _fucking hell_. Do. You. _Want_?"

Let it never be said that Ulquiorra was a morning person.

"Hey. Hey. D'you knows what? Ya shound _shexy_."

Even over the phone he could practically smell the alcohol and just plain _stupid_ wafting off this person in _waves._

So he hung up. Problem solved. He gave himself a mental pat on the back and settled back in for a nice, uninterrupted rest.

Only for the phone to ring again.

Someone up there probably really hated him.

He picked up again.

"_Why_ are you still calling me?"

He briefly considered that this might be a different caller, but the same drunken, male voice answered him.

"Hey _shexy_. Wassur name?"

He hung up. Like _hell_ he was being hit on by some drunk pervert at _two in the morning._

The phone rang. Again. He picked up. Again.

(Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew there was a much easier solution to this, but for the life of him right now, he couldn't figure it out.)

"Stop calling me."

"But I don'…don' know yur name. And yours so_ shexy_, ya knows?"

"Stop. Calling. Me."

"'m gonna call you Shexy, m'kay? Yesh, yer name's _Shexy_ now."

"_Stop. Calling. Me."_

"Ha! Saved yer nuber. Yer Shexy now. Wit' a _h_."

His nonexistent patience just about ran out and he slammed the phone down. Waited for the first ring. Picked it up and slammed it down again. About ten repetitions in, he dimly realized his phone was probably not going to ring again. Mainly because he smashed it to bits.

He had a feeling he wasn't going to be as happy about this in the morning, but all he cared about right now was that the phone had stopped ringing, that trash can't call him and there was a nice comfy pillow under his head. Yes, life was good. With a slightly inane smile, Ulquiorra finally drifted off.

That was December.

* * *

There are a few things one should know about Ulquiorra Cifer.

He is seventeen , currently a high school junior, had green eyes, black hair and a very distinct pair of permanent tear tracks running down his face. For a male, he was rather on the short side and he always dressed like he was going to an interview, neat and pressed.

He lived alone in a two bedroom, one bathroom house at the edge of the suburbs supported financially by an aunt and uncle that he rarely ever saw. On weekends, he worked at Hueco Mundo, a small bookstore owned by a friend of the family.

If he had time for friends in his very busy schedule, he probably wouldn't have bothered anyway, as he was a person who kept to himself and disliked any interaction involving other people. That was okay, as people rarely bothered with him either.

At school, he was the loner with good grades and an icy attitude that everyone tended to overlook. At work, he was the dutiful employee that didn't talk unless he had to.

His life was the definition of boring and routine, but he liked it that way. He was happy just as it was.

* * *

It was a few days after The Incident and, as absolutely nothing had changed, Ulquiorra decided the whole thing had just been a rather unfortunate dream. He ignored the smashed phone on his bedside table and reasoned that he must have mistaken it for his alarm clock in his sleep.

As stated before: _not_ a morning person.

So he wrote the whole thing off and could've probably moved on quite happily with his life if his phone hadn't decided to ring one day at the slightly more reasonably time of 7:30 in the evening.

He eyed the phone warily for a minute before deciding that there was no way a person that far gone could've remembered his number or had the mind to actually save it onto his phone. He was just being paranoid, for sure.

"Hello?"

"…Holy _shit_, you're a dude."

Well. There goes that particular theory. This was really getting ridiculous. Things like this just didn't happen to him!

"The hell were you dong saved under the name 'Sexy'? I was hoping for a hot chick…"

…

This _buffoon_ had the gall to disturb his rest with his drunken passes, make him break his phone, buy a new one, only to find that he called _again_ to _complain_ to him that he was not a girl! ?

"Listen here, you _trash_. _You_ were the one who called _me_ at two in the morning to harass me with your drunken ramblings. If you are raising complaints, _I_ am most certainly not the one to be blamed. Now if you would excuse me-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," for a change, the person on the other line sounded something other than drunk and slow. Amazing feat for such a primitive mind, although anger really wasn't that far above the other two. "You blaming _me_ for all this? The hell man?"

Ulquiorra was ashamed to say that his voice may have raised a few decibels. "Yes, I _am_ blaming you, because you are clearly the one at fault!"

"Geez, quite bein' such a pansy. Wasn't even that biguva deal."

"Wasn't that big- You disrupted my rest!"

"'Disrupted my rest?' What are you, a friggin' mummy? Do the world a favor and take that pole out of yer ass, will ya?"

The ensuing…'conversation' has been selectively blocked from Ulquiorra's memories as it includes much name calling and childishness that he was quite frankly appalled at himself for sinking to such a level.

The call ended with that trash swearing to track him down and tear him limb from limb as soon as he figured out where he lived. As the line went dead, Ulquiorra realized it was nearly 9:30. His schedule was messed up. Again. He'd just wasted two hours of his life arguing with this imbecile. Where in the world had the time gone? He hoped that it was a local call or his phone bill would suffer.

Mechanically, he rose and prepared for bed, the familiar movements helping him unwind from the unexpected wretch in his plans.

It wasn't until he was almost asleep when it occurred to him that he could have just hung up.

* * *

The next day, Ulquiorra felt slightly…off. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why though, as it was by his standards, a perfectly normal day. He woke up, showered, ate breakfast and went to school. Sat in class, took notes, gave a speech (The Dangers of Global Warming, probably one of the most boring topics in history), went to the library, went home. A perfectly average day.

Then the phone rang. And something clicked.

Whatever was wrong with him, it was probably that trash's fault. That was also probably him. Calling. Again.

After staring at the phone ringing for a few more seconds, he picked it up. Ulquiorra prepared his mind for an intelligently worded battle of wits. At least, on his end. He certainly did not want a repeat of last time.

Preparation ready, he put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

It was a telemarketer. He felt oddly disappointed.

The remainder of the day dragged by slowly and his eyes seemed magnetically drawn to the phone every few minutes. When it hit 9:15 and it still didn't ring, he berated himself for being foolish and went to bed with that same oddly heavy feeling of disappointment.

* * *

The feeling persisted through the following day, until about lunchtime.

After biology class, Ulquiorra had gone to his locker to stow away his books. As it was, he got the weird feeling that someone was…following him? Unconsciously, his steps quickened before he regained his senses and told himself he was just being needlessly cautious.

Turned out he was wrong as an arm was suddenly right next to his ear and the impact echoed down the nearly empty hallway.

While this was a highly unusual situation, Ulquiorra wasn't unduly worried. Despite his vulnerable position with his back turned and his slender appearance, he was fairly confident that he could take care of himself. It wasn't as if he hadn't been bullied before. They had ended up in the hospital and he got two small bruises and a lecture from the principal. After that, his lunch money seemed to have lost its appeal. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking when he had hoped that even morons can learn by example.

Then there was a heated breath on his ear and a whisper of, "Hey Sexy."

And he figured he must have done something terrible in his previous life because what were the odds that this trash would call his phone number out of all the numbers out there, would actually save it onto his phone despite being drunk and even go to his school? Where was the logic in that? It seemed like a huge cosmic joke.

"Hm…ya know? Maybe I was right to call ya sexy…"

He fought the shiver moving down his spine as he _felt_ those lips mouthing the words against his ear. Suddenly, he was aware of the heat radiating off another body, the chest nearly pressed into his back and his position, caged as he was. There was a dull roaring in his ears and his brain aborted all higher functions for thoughts of _too close, too close, too close_…

And then there was a half bent over body in front of him, spewing out curses and clutching his stomach, and his fist felt like it had just tried to punch its way through a brick wall.

"What the _hell_, you motherfucking sonuva bitch?

"Don't touch me."

Through shockingly blue bangs, equally blue eyes glared up at him and for a moment, he was swept away by the sheer _force_ in that gaze. But he had and always will hold his own and really, trash should know its place.

"I'll kill you, ya stuck up prick!"

"Empty words, as I've already incapacitated you."

"Fuck you!"

How odd. He felt…better now.

* * *

There were very few things Ulquiorra knew about one Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez before their first official meeting. He was rarely ever at school, most probably did some kind of drug and had different girls for every night of the week. This Grimmjow apparently liked to get into fights (which he usually won) and had a very 'distinctive look', as one person had described it. And yet, for some reason he couldn't comprehend, people seemed to _like_ him, adore him, kiss the ground he walked on (an exaggeration, but he was feeling somewhat miffed).

And when Ulquiorra looked down at a toned physique, teal colored hair and bright blue eyes, he could almost see it. Then he retrieved his brain from the black hole full of _stupid_ that it had evidently been dumped into.

From then on, he affectionately dubbed this blue menace 'trash'.

* * *

It wasn't really a friendship, as far as Ulquiorra knew. But, as he had very little experience in this area, perhaps it was normal to call friends degrading names and fight constantly.

All he knew was, suddenly there was a very big, very blue and very annoying disturbance in his otherwise peaceful life that went by the name Grimmjow.

He wasn't really sure what to think.

At first, it was only fighting, to which he was proud to say he usually came out the victor. ("Oi, are ya stupid or something? My name is _Grimmjow_. Stop callin' me trash!" "I will if you, in turn, desist in calling me degrading nicknames." "What, ya mean 'sexy'? At least yours is a compliment!" "Perhaps for a girl. Or a whore." "What, ya tellin' me you ain't neither?" _SMACK._ "HA! Ya even hit like a girl!" "…die, trash.") This was…acceptable, if not exactly ideal. It did not interfere too badly with his routine. School was just a little more unpredictable than normal.

Then Jaegerjaquez stole his lunch and wouldn't give it back until he agreed to eat it with him. And between fending off invading chopsticks and moronic remarks, he realized with a sort of resignation that his monochrome life was changing and it was _all his fault_.

Things only got worse from there. Jaegerjaquez started seeking him out after school ("C'mon. We're going to a movie." "A movie? Why?" "'cause I _said_ so, now get yer ass in here.") and shattering his concentration with a well placed phone call (knew he should have paid extra for caller ID). And to his horror, Ulquiorra found himself _reciprocating_, offering to tutor him in math (a terrible, terrible mistake that will never be talked about again) and actually _smiling_ at one of Grimmjow's crude, dirty jokes (just once, and that was a temporarily lapse of judgment).

The nurse said there was nothing physically wrong with him. He chose not to believe her and chalked it up to stress and a minor case of delusional dementia. Or perhaps stupidity actually was contagious.

While unsettling, Ulquiorra decided that it was not that large of an issue. Jaegerjaquez could be dealt with accordingly with a few slight changes in schedule. After that, his life would resume its normal pace and that blue-eyed trash would cease to be a problem.

And then there was approximately 200 pounds of _idiot_ on his doorstep late on Friday night, a small duffle bag slung over one shoulder and a grin fixed into place.

He flicked two fingers in a mock salute. "Yo."

Ulquiorra thought that sometimes, life kind of really, really sucked.

* * *

**End Notes: **Well, that's the end of chapter one. It was surprisingly easy to write this, so I hope that means I'll actually finish this story. Feedback will be appreciated. ^^

**Edit: **10/7/10, changed some of the words around, mostly 'Grimmjow' to 'Jaegerjaquez'. Yes, I am doing this for a reason. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** I'll Be the Wings

**Author's Note:** Okay, three things. One, I'm really sorry for the late update! My computer's being an ass and school has been sucking the life and soul from me since it started. I have absolutely zero time up until around November. The only reason I have this up now is because it was already written and I just needed to type it up. If you do decide to follow this story (and I certainly hope you do ^^), expect sporadic updates at best.

Second, I am currently looking for a beta. I am absolutely _terrible_ at grammar, and as both my spelling and grammar check are down, I'm probably going to need all the help I can get. Would anyone be willing to take the job? I promise I don't bite (probably).

And to end on a positive note, thank you so much for all the reviews, faves, and alerts! They seriously made my day. :) While I would absolutely love to respond to every single one of these, I don't think my computer can handle it at this point in time. So unless you have a specific question, I am probably not going to reply. But I thank you all for liking this story enough to give me some feedback and I am totally humbled by the response I got.

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter One.

**Warnings:** See Chapter One. And whatever bad spelling and grammar I didn't catch.

* * *

He pictured his eyes boring (big, gaping, bloody) holes into that thick skull belonging to the unwanted _thing _on his doorstep and willed it away with sheer determination.

He was pleased to note the thing fidgeting a little. Perhaps this would be an effective method against All Things Unwanted. Point one for Ulquiorra.

"…what? Not gonna invite me in?"

Blast. Didn't work after all.

"How did you obtain my address, trash?"

A feral smirk. "I got my sources."

Ulquiorra felt the familiar irritation that often accompanied Jaegerjaquez's presence and knew he'll have a headache later.

"Whatever it is that you want, the answer is no," he moved to shut the door.

And then things took a turn for the worst.

There was suddenly a strong force tugging on his shoulders and when the door shut, he found himself on the wrong side of it.

He was fairly certain that, in this scenario, he was supposed to be on one side of the door (preferably the one that led to the front hallway) and all annoyances (car salesmen, religious missionaries, etc.) were supposed to be on the other side. In that case, he was probably doing something wrong.

Large hands slid casually from his shoulders to his forearms, locking his arms at his sides and restricting his movement. Jaegerjaquez loomed over him (had he always been this tall?) and something in Ulquiorra's brain was setting off alarm bells, warnings, and probably fireworks, while they're at it. There was a hard chest pressed up against his own and a leg nudging his apart and at that point, he abandoned sensory detail for panicking and trying not to hyperventilate.

"I thought I told you not to touch me, trash." Still steady. Good.

"Wassa matter, sexy?" Oh, God. He could actually _feel_ those words rumbling out of that chest and fought a shiver as warm breath brushed his ear. "Afraid you'd _like it_?"

And he could barely hear anything through the blood pounding in his ears and his brain was sending signals _too close, too close, WAY too close…_

So Ulquiorra jerked his knee up in a classic move against all would-be rapists and trash who-did-not-understand-the-concept-of-personal-space with enough force that Jaegerjaquez would most likely never have children.

Really. He was doing the world a favor.

Or, he would have if he could get his legs to move. Unfortunately, he was well and truly _trapped_ from head to toe.

"Release me. " If his voice sounded a bit shakier than normal, he blamed it on his restricted airways. Yes, definitely his restricted airways.

When he heard a chuckle, Ulquiorra knew he had lost this round.

"Well, ya see, I kinda need a place to crash for a few weeks...how 'bout it?"

Every cell in his body rebelled at the thought of living with this trash for a day, let alone _weeks_ but as nothing seemed to want to move, he realized with a dawning sort of revelation that only horror movie characters would understand that he had no say in the matter at all.

"Fine. Now release me." He could feel the fine tremors moving down his body and at this proximity, he was sure Jaegerjaquez could too. Oh, how he _hated_ to be touched...

"Oh, I don't know..." that cocky smirk was present in his voice and he just knew that he was totally screwed. "I don't hear a _please_..."

He lips clamped shut automatically. As if he would degrade himself to such a level.

"Is that a no? Are you _sure..._?" And those lips were no longer merely brushing his ear, but _sucking_ on it, accompanied by a velvety tongue and unusually sharp canines.

If Ulquiorra hadn't been pressed to the door, he would have fallen over. His knees had the power of jello and his stomach was abruptly rebelling on him and twisting into uncomfortably odd shapes. What a time for his body to suddenly betray him.

"_Please_..." it was more of a groan than anything else and he was appalled that it actually slipped past his lips. He really needed to work on his self-control after this. Provided that he survived, as his whole body felt like it was on fire.

"Please...what?" The playful tone had a distinctive rough edge to it, which made his stomach do more uncomfortable flips and he was pretty sure his face had attained new levels of red.

He had to force every syllable out of his throat and through his gritted teeth. "Please...Jaegerjaquez."

"I can't _hear_ you."

"..."

"Well, I could always..." a thumb started stroking his arm and the leg trapped between his own began to press insistently upwards.

_Oh God._

"Please, Grimmjow!" the snarl ripped from his lips and he could hear the shattered pieces of his pride falling to the ground. (He could also hear his neighbor running into her house next door. He hoped she'll call the police.)

And Grimmjow was gone so suddenly that he nearly slumped to the floor before he regained his balance. He had honestly expected him to drag that out for as long as possible. It appears miracles do happen after all.

That smirk was still fixed firmly on his face when he asked, casual as you please, "So. Where do I sleep?"

* * *

He tried to convince himself that the first day would always be the worst and that _every day for the rest of God knows how long _would not be this unfathomably _evil_.

At first, he had naively thought that, no matter how uninvited, a guest was still a guest and should be treated as such.

He offered Jaegerjaquez the guest bedroom. He refused. Offered him the couch. Refused. The floor. Refused. Lost his patience and asked him if he would like to sleep in the bathtub as that was the only place left. Belatedly suspected the innuendo and smacked the leer off that trash's face.

"You are using the guest bedroom, trash."

"Aw, we ain't sharin' your bedroom?"

He thought that the strange tick developing in his eye was rather worrisome and he should probably see a doctor about it.

The next obstacle: dinner.

Ulquiorra had absolutely no intention of cooking for more than one. And by one, he meant himself. That trash can starve for all he cared, guest status or not. However, if the buffoon tried to cook something for himself, he'll make a mess of the kitchen and possibly burn the house down.

He chose the lesser of two evils and endured the taunts of "You'd make such a good housewifey, Sexy!" and "What, lost yer 'kiss the cook' apron?" He was strongly tempted to put rat poison in one of the portions and see who had the better luck. Either way, it would work in his favor. No more irritating trash, unless someone up there did hate him and he ended up in Hell.

Jaegerjaquez's table manners, as he had previously witnessed, were atrocious. He was too loud, talked with his mouth full and chewed with his mouth open. Ulquiorra mourned the loss of his clean, spit-free table and quiet meals.

But, after he had finished and started cleaning his teeth with his fork (Ulquiorra fought the overwhelming urge to immediately disinfect and sterilize the unfortunate utensil), he told his reluctant host "S'good," and since Ulquiorra did not care for trash's opinion at all, he didn't feel any pleasure from that comment. It did, however, lend some way toward appeasement.

Between the strain his unwelcome houseguest put on his schedule and the headache he always managed to induce, he was feeling somewhat drained by 8 o'clock. His bed was looking more and more appealing by the second, so for once, he willingly disregarded his daily routine and collapsed.

He prayed the house was still standing by tomorrow.

* * *

On the second day, he discovered that, yes, mornings _can_ be more evil than he had originally thought. He also discovered that his pillow had grown a pair of arms, a very solid chest and the ability to breathe overnight.

Three seconds later found him halfway across the room with the echo of a (very, very quiet and dignified) scream resonating around.

At least he had the satisfaction of seeing Grimmjow pinwheel off the bed into an ungraceful heap.

He sat up, rubbing his head. "What the hell, man?"

"I _believe_ that should be _my _question! Are you too dumb to realize there was another person in that bed? The guest bedroom is the door on the left!" Now would be a great time to install some locks in the house. Should have thought of that yesterday.

Jaegerjaquez stood up and stretched, revealing expanses of sun-kissed skin and toned muscle and _oh god_, he slept in his undergarments in _his bed._ He had actually _touched_ that skin, probably more than once, during the night and _why why why_ was he not feeling more disturbed?

Ulquiorra would be the first to admit that he just _did not like_ people. Never have and never would. It came to reason that he also did not like _touching_ said people, which would have also been freely admitted if it wasn't such an obvious weakness on his part (call him paranoid but he was _justified_. Just look at Jaegerjaquez). Anyone with two eyes and half a brain cell could see that he _did not want to be touched._

That obviously did not apply to the trash currently sitting on his bed.

Ulquiorra was sure he was doing it on purpose. The casual slap on the shoulder in the hallways. The 'accidental' touching of hands when they were walking. The brushing of legs during lunch.

It was driving him insane.

And now, _this._ It was just too much. It wasn't just hands or shoulders anymore. Considering the position he woke up in, there wasn't much of him that remained undefiled by that menace. And that was just...just...

It was amazing that Jaegerjaquez still had all his limbs.

And what did the source of all his distress have to say for himself?

"Hey Sexy," big leer, "What's for breakfast?"

He could have cried.

* * *

True to his schedule, Ulquiorra attempted to leave for work at precisely 6:52. The operative word being _attempted._

"Hey Sexy. Can I have the spare key?"

He considered this for all of zero seconds."No."

"Oh, c'mon. What's the worst that could happen?"

Visions of his house set on fire, filled with drunkards and prostitutes, smelling of week old gym sock and expired yogurt.

"_No._"

He had to say, Jaegerjaquez had a rather impressive repertoire of persuasive tactics.

First, there was wheedling and whining.

"Come _on._ Ya know you _want to..._"

"No."

Second, guilt trips.

"I can't go _anywhere_ without a key! I'll be all alone...sitting on your coach...going _insane_ with boredom. Ya don' even have a goddamned TV!"

"I believe that is not my problem."

Third attempt: threatening.

"I swear I'll tear up every fuckin' piece a'furniture in there."

"Then that solves all my problems. You end up in jail and I will be free of your presence for approximately fifteen years."

Fourth, reasoning.

"If I don't get inside, yer neighbors are going to think you have some kinda weird stalker followin' you around."

"...you mean I don't?"

Fifth try: flattery.

"Lovin' the outfit. Where'd you get it?"

"This is my work uniform trash."

All attempts: fail.

As Ulquiorra drove off to work under a near murderous blue glare, he was feeling inordinately pleased with himself.

Ulquiorra: 1, Jaegerjaquez: 0.

* * *

Work was a welcome return to normalcy compared to his school and now home life. No blue hair (_had_ to be dyed), no cocky smirk, no crude comments...

Yes, it was paradise.

For the first time all week, Ulquiorra felt himself relax, eased into the familiar rhythm of unpacking, sorting and shelving books in the small confines of the shop that smelled of leather, paper and, oddly, sand.

He _almost_ didn't mind when that five-year-old brat brought in a blueberry ice cream cone (too much purple, not nearly enough blue) despite the very big NO FOOD OR DRINK sign in the window. Or when a dog managed to slip in and cause mayhem for at least twenty minutes, a shit-eating grin (now where had he seen _that_ one before?) plastered on its face.

It took a few hours to reorganize the 'T' section (trash trash trash) after the morning wave had gone, but for once, he didn't mind the tedious task of putting such 'books' as Call Me Sexy (there was irony in there somewhere, he just knew it) back in their proper places.

Ulquiorra manned the cash register near the afternoon, as there were not as many people then. One imbecile insisted on calling him by name and then completely butchering it be saying 'ulcer' with a -ora attached (this shall never be spoken of again. God, he could just _imagine_ the nicknames...). Other than that incident, all proceeded smoothly; absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

By the end of his shift, Ulquiorra was feeling relaxed and in control once more. Passing the nearby tanning salon (that golden tint was most definitely natural, judging by the orange people coming out of there) on the way to his car, he felt prepared to take on anything.

And the best part? He hadn't thought of that trash once.

* * *

The short drive home provided him with some much needed time to think and his mind wandered back to the (probably) idle threats Jaegerjaquez made earlier that morning.

No one would really be stupid enough to trash a person's house after telling them they were going to do it, right? Because Ulquiorra was not entirely certain he had insurance (he was actually fairly certain he did not). He also had a feeling his aunt and uncle would not be pleased to replace furniture destroyed by a lunatic he let into the house.

He really, really hoped Grimmjow was not that stupid.

And then there were his neighbors. While he did not particularly care what nosy vermin thought of him, he certainly did not want rumors going around that he had befriended that trash. Because Jaegerjaquez was _definitely_ not his friend (and Ulquiorra had checked too. Looked up the definition and everything).

And that, of course, led to the thought that Jaegerjaquez had a lot of friends. Who lived to drink and party in people's houses. And that trash currently had access to _his_ house.

Oh, dear Lord...

By the time he pulled up in his driveway, Ulquiorra was half-convinced that there would be a squad of police cars outside his house, arresting drunk teenagers for underage drinking and doing drugs, asking him, "Sir, are you the owner of this house?"

He even had a speech made up and everything on how some blue-haired maniac had somehow broken in.

But when he arrived, all was quiet. Normal. No police sirens wailing or loud music blasting through his (nonexistent) speakers. It was almost too good to be true.

When he reached the front door, he saw why.

Grimmjow had apparently left his house at some time during his absence and had not been able to let himself back in (mostly his fault, Ulquiorra realized, but no way was he going to regret it now). Sitting with his back to the door, he had fallen asleep. And what a difference it made! There was no angry scowl, no condescending smirk, only a somewhat peaceful, if serious, expression framed by wisps of teal that had fallen in his face.

Really. Add a few flowers and sunlight streaming in just the right way or some such nonsense and you'd get one of the most overused clichés in human history.

Not to say he was immune to it. Clichés were used because they worked. That rare nonaggressive expression coupled with the relaxed posture and almost childlike tendency to curl up made for a very precious picture indeed. What kind of monster could possibly disturb such an innocent scene?

Ulquiorra took savage pleasure in pushing the door in as hard as he could. Watching Grimmjow tip backward and hit his head on the hard wood floor (and letting out a stream of curses and innuendoes about his mother and the family dog) was almost worth the torture of living with the moron.

Stepping over the unsightly trash in his hallway, Ulquiorra cut off the profanities with a curt voice.

"The spare key is in the flower pot next to the doorstep. I suggest you don't lose it."

He couldn't _quite_ convince himself it was a complete victory, but that didn't stop the satisfaction when he saw Grimmjow's stupefied face.

* * *

**End Notes: **Wow, that turned out to be longer than I expected. I am exhausted. And for some odd reason, I really like picturing Ulquiorra saying 'blast'. I hoped you enjoyed it, and thank you for reading! As always, feedback would be appreciated. ^^


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** I'll Be the Wings

**Author's Note:** Wow…it's been a while, and I do apologize for that. Think of this as…a really, really, really late Christmas present. Or something.

Once again, I would like to thank my absolutely wonderful reviewers and supporters for all the encouragement! You guys are simply awesome. :)

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter One.

**Warnings:** Language, boy on boy, sexual innuendoes…um…probably something else I'm forgetting…

* * *

In his (admittedly rather short) lifetime, Ulquiorra had tried never to do anything unproductive. He made good use of his time, spending it effectively and without waste.

So why did he currently have a book in his lap (What was it called? He couldn't recall…), pretending to read it while surreptitiously peering at the trash sporting a blue T-shirt and ridiculously baggy jeans lounging on the coffee table not two feet in front of him?

He loathe to admit it, but…he was rather curious. Despite all the time they (reluctantly) spent together, he found that he really didn't know much more about him than what he gathered from rumors (well, except for the fact that Grimmjow really liked strawberries for whatever reason, but that was neither here nor there).

Of course, the one question he was dying to ask was: 'Why the hell are you in my house and not your own?', closely followed by 'When are you leaving?' Now, if only he could gather up the saintly amount of patience required to deal with such trash…

"Good book?"

He snapped out of whatever trance he had tried to put himself into. Eyes darting to the page open in front of him, he tried to guess which book he had picked up based on the words, only to realize it was upside down.

"It is passably entertaining."

The familiar curling of lips was back (he was really starting to dislike that smirk) and he asked, "Wassit about?"

Blast. "Why don't you read it and find out?"

That trash waved it off with a dismissive, "If ya haven' noticed, reading ain't really my _thing_. Bad for my rep an' all."

How oddly bitter. If he didn't know any better…

But he did, so Ulquiorra put an end to that chain of thought.

"Why exactly are you here?" He hadn't meant to say that aloud, but he figured it was as good a time as any to give this voice. Jaegerjaquez didn't look surprised in the least.

Instead, he heaved a sigh and idly stretched his legs out, nearly colliding into Ulquiorra's if he hadn't pulled back at the last second.

"Well, long story short, my folks got pissed at me and threw me outta the house," he said, running a hand through his hair. Ulquiorra would have called the gesture sheepish on anyone else, but Jaegerjaquez didn't _do_ sheepish, so it just looked like he wanted to muss up his hair.

"You did not answer my question, trash. Why _here_, in particular?" He was popular, well liked. Why not ask some other poor sap to put up with him? Save him some suffering.

Jaegerjaquez leaned forward slightly, his features adapting a leer. "Why'd you wanna know so bad?"

He didn't. Not really. "Just answer the question."

Jaegerjaquez was getting closer and he fought the automatic urge to back away. "Why do _you_ think I'm here, _Sexy_?" The last word, that accursed nickname, was sensually drawn out until it sounded even more obscene than usual.

He continued, "Why do _you_ think I stayed with a person living by himself?" Well, that was- "Why do _you_ think we're here, together, _alone_?" Isn't that the same-"Why do _you_ think I ain't using the guest bedroom?" Probably just to be difficult- "And why do _you_ think I call you Sexy?" What did _that_ have to do with anything?

With every question, he leaned forward that much more and before Ulquiorra knew it, his back was pressed against the couch as he sought to keep a respectable distance between them.

He felt oddly…_jumpy_, which was just ridiculous considering the more or less innocent (well, as innocent as he was capable of) nature of Jaegerjaquez's questions. But...his instincts were usually accurate…

Was he missing something important?

He made sure to keep his voice perfectly blank when he replied, "I would not be asking if I already knew the answer."

Jaegerjaquez stared at him for a few seconds before releasing a puff of air that brushed his cheek (he really wished trash understood the concept of _personal space…_) and said in disbelief, "Ya really don' get it?"

Okay, now he _knew_ he was missing something important.

That trash actually rocked backward (he was glad; the back of the couch wasn't all that comfortable), disbelief etched into his features. In the tense silence that followed (it would have been awkward, but Ulquiorra was so used to them by now that it just became normal), they just stared at each other, waiting for the other to say "Just kidding!" and laugh (Well, that trash would anyways. He never kid).

And then Grimmjow started to laugh and his rare fanciful mood vanished just as quickly as it came.

"That's fucking _hilarious_. Ya really don' get it?"

He decided he really had had enough of Jaegerjaquez's little jokes at his expense and showed his displeasure. With his foot. But what meant to connect with the middle of a ribcage instead found his own coffee table as the blue-haired teen chose to flop down on the couch. He looked ridiculous, jean-covered legs thrown over the side, everything from the knee down hanging off the end and his head nearly touching Ulquiorra's thigh (he became very friendly with the sofa arm).

Before he could ask what he was doing, Grimmjow's head tilted back and their eyes met, burned and clashed, fighting a silent battle for an unknown prize.

"Read it to me," he said and Ulquiorra blinked (damn, lost) in surprise before remembering the open book still in his lap.

"Why would I do that, trash?"

That smirk was still vexing, even upside down. "I answered yer question. You owe me."

And for some reason, he didn't argue (that gaze was trained on him, intense and scorching and so very much _there_), just calmly righted the book (he had _meant_ to have it upside down) and flipped to the first page.

"Rage - Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus' son Achilles…"

* * *

Ulquiorra had found out ages ago that, to his surprise, he actually rather enjoyed cooking. It wasn't that he really liked food or really liked to eat; what he enjoyed was the act itself.

Cooking was a straight forward, step-by-step process. One simply followed the recipe and in the end, you got what you were looking for, more or less. Every effect had a known and controllable cause. There weren't many variables in cooking.

And sure, he would never make it to restaurant quality without a passion for the food itself, but for his needs, it was more than enough. It was edible, nutritious, and didn't taste terrible. He liked doing it and it was a relaxing activity. In his mind, the pros far outweighed the cons.

And the cons would be?

"Honey! I'm home!"

He knew he should've bought the rat poison.

* * *

If Ulquiorra had to pick one thing that he hated most about waking up (besides the actual execution of said act), he would choose the way his mind felt sluggish and slow, how _groggy_ he was until he had his daily cup of morning tea.

So it might've taken a _little_ longer than normal to notice that, once again, his pillow had grown arms and legs that were entangled in his own, his head was tucked comfortably underneath what felt suspiciously like a chin and that there was something digging into his-

_Oh, dear Lord_.

And that was the second day Ulquiorra started his morning by teleporting to the other side of his bedroom and waking its other occupant (how the _hell_ had he gotten in here anyways?) with a shout.

At this rate, he wouldn't need the caffeine anymore.

The other person in the bed did not do a repeat of yesterday (he was rather disappointed, really) and instead lazily opened his eyes and stretched in a cat-like motion.

"Seriously, ya wake up like that every mornin'? Don't your neighbors complain?"

He knew he was more than a bit out of it when he, one, failed to respond to that obvious insult and, two, got distracted (no, distracted was the wrong word, but he couldn't think of the _right_ one) by the fact that Jaegerjaquez wasn't wearing a shirt, which meant he really did sleep in only his undergarments and his eyes couldn't help but follow the path of his thoughts and _oh God, that hadn't been a flashlight. _

His eyes snapped back up and Grimmjow was giving him this smug knowing grin, like he knew exactly what Ulquiorra was thinking about and it made him happy in some sadistic sort of way.

He was sure he had never felt so mortified in his entire existence. What do you say to the guy who woke up in your bed like…like that? Ulquiorra had always been less than adequate in even the most normal of human interactions and this was by no stretch of the imagination, _normal_.

He was fairly certain he should be saying something. He was also fairly certain someone could fry an egg on his face by now.

So he did what any socially inept teen would do when faced with uncomfortable situations. He made a noise which may or may not have been a squeak, took five steps to enter the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.

He took his shower at this time anyways.

And a shower, he really, really needed. Preferably a scorching one that was hot enough to kill bacteria or viruses or whatever else Jaegerjaquez could have possibly infected him with by physical contact. And if he was extremely lucky, it could also burn away the last couple of minutes from his memory and maybe his face would return to its normal color.

One step away from hot-watered bliss, Ulquiorra realized he was about to take a shower with a self-proven pervert in the next room and _the door had no lock._

That was the fastest shower he had ever taken.

He felt rather…foolish, straining his ears for the slightest noise (not that he could hear anything over the stream of hot water anyways), constantly looking toward the doorway through the shower curtain, washing his hair so fast that there were still suds in it when he got out…it was ridiculous and it was absurd, but it was _justified_, dammit, so he didn't stop.

Only after he had safely wrapped a towel around his waist and was using another to dry his (sud-free) hair, did he begin to relax. Jaegerjaquez wasn't _that_ stupid after all. And all was fine and dandy until he reached a hand to the shelf where he always kept his clothing only to find nothing but air.

Sometimes, he despised fate or destiny or whatever made him _forget to bring his clothing_ this particular morning of all mornings.

Ulquiorra quickly considered his options. He could ask that trash to give him some clothes. But, knowing him, he'd probably refuse just to spite him. Even if he didn't, it was still a blow to his pride, one he couldn't afford right now after that embarrassing spectacle this morning. So that left him with option two: pretend that he meant to do that all along, march out, and grab his clothes from his bedroom where a blue-haired degenerate was still probably residing before hightailing it back to the bathroom.

To be honest, Ulquiorra didn't think he could do it.

But, as his first option was out and his third option was to stay in the bathroom for God knows how long, he eventually convinced his body to _move_, pushing the door open and strolling out as normally as possible.

He steadfastly avoided looking at the trash currently sitting in his bed (why was he _still there_?) but he could practically _feel _the weight of that gaze tracking his every move and burning a hole through his body.

He really, really hoped his face (or anything lower than that) wasn't red.

The three-second walk to his closet suddenly seemed a lot longer and he made sure his eyes were on his goal and _nothing else_ for the duration of that time. Picking out his clothing for the day had never seemed such an arduous task until he had to do it in front of an audience.

Turning back to the bathroom, it occurred to him that it was (technically) _his_ house and as such, if he wanted to walk around naked (not that he ever would), shouldn't it be his right? He didn't have anything to be embarrassed about.

Ulquiorra made the mistake of losing focus for that brief second and suddenly found himself staring into very blue and very amused eyes.

But that wasn't the part that made him uneasy. No, he had expected that on some level.

He had never seen eyes look so _hungry_.

* * *

Ulquiorra left for work a full fifteen minutes early, an unprecedented event before his life had been turned upside down. But he couldn't just _stand there_ and pretend to make breakfast while that _gaze_ was burned into his memory and its owner was _sitting right there,_ refusing to put on proper clothing and insisting on watching him cook.

The air had actually been trying to suffocate him.

So, he made a tactical retreat. Fled to his car and drove off without his breakfast, wallet and house keys. Got lost on a road that he'd driven on a thousand times. Ran a red light and nearly hit a trash (hahaha, very funny) truck.

Ulquiorra was always a little…distracted when his schedule was off.

Now he was sitting in his car outside of Hueco Mundo almost six minutes early despite the mishaps. And he just _didn't know what to do_. Objectively speaking, showing up at work a couple minutes early was not that big of a deal. But for someone who prided himself on his organization and strict time-keeping, this event was nothing short of a catastrophe.

He just had no idea what to do.

It had been just like a game of dominoes, hasn't it? One domino fell into the next until the whole thing collapsed into shambles, starting from the second he woke up today.

No. To be perfectly honest, it started a while ago. But Ulquiorra supposed it was easier to realize this when the reason behind it wasn't there to further aggravate his schedule until he didn't even notice the disturbance.

He watched the digital numbers tick pass slowly and wondered exactly how he was going to fix the train wreck his life suddenly resembled.

* * *

Work did not provide a reprieve for him, even after his efforts to walk into the store at his regular time. There was still the distinct aura of _wrongness_ following him about and it was messing with his ability to concentrate.

Suddenly, it was like his first week here, unable to find anything and still learning the ropes, establishing a pattern he could easily fall into. But this was even worse, as it wasn't that he didn't _know_, it was just the he wasn't _paying attention_.

He'd set down a stack of books to help a costumer and then completely forget about it until he nearly knocked it over ten minutes later. He constantly had to ask people to repeat themselves, as he had trouble focusing on what they were saying. Or…

Or like now, he realized with a start, simply staring off into space for indeterminate amounts of time. He automatically started shelving books again and hoped they were in their correct places.

Honestly. It had gotten so bad, even his _co-worker_ noticed. The redheaded, rather-er…_well-endowed_ girl (what was her name? Orinkage? Otohime?) had come up to him earlier to ask if something was wrong. He had only talked to her once or twice before and if even _she _noticed…

It must be pretty bad.

But he refused to give up. He will not lose to…to…?

To what, exactly? An off day? His lack of concentration? A streak of bad luck?

Jaegerjaquez, he decided finally. He will not lose to Jaegerjaquez.

* * *

He wondered if it was possible to get arrested for loitering outside your own house.

He sincerely hoped not. His neighbors really didn't like him and would probably not hesitate to call the police if that were the case.

But he had been pacing in front of the door for an abnormal amount of time now (about fifteen minutes, he realized with a start) and he will concede that it did look pretty suspicious. But he couldn't help it. For some unfathomable reason, he couldn't bring himself to walk through that door.

No, that was a lie. He _knew_ the reason (_reasons_, really), it was just rather painful for him to admit.

The primary reason he was standing outside his house and not in it is because he did not have his keys. They were on the counter next to the table where he had sat and _stared_-

The keys were on the counter.

The second reason was that his spare keys were mysteriously missing. He had checked the flowerpot where they usually resided and noticed their disappearance. He wondered if some _idiot_ had mistaken his privilege to _use _the key for permission to just _take_ it, like the_ moronic_-

In any case, his spare keys were gone.

The third reason was the most difficult for Ulquiorra to swallow. There was no way he was…_apprehensive_ about entering his own house, not even with-

There was just no way.

So he loitered outside of the door and pretended it was because he couldn't get in. Ulquiorra had walked past his front door enough times to memorize every detail of it by now, which was how he could tell he had been really out of it this morning. He always made sure the keyhole was vertical when he left, and it'd have to be anyways since, if it were on its side, the door would be…

The door would be unlocked. Because he had forgotten his keys this morning.

He stared at the keyhole some more and wondered if he could just conveniently forget that revelation.

* * *

Ulquiorra had expected a lot of things to happen when he and his unwelcome house guest met again. He had expected there to be a lot of awkward pauses and abrupt changes of topic. He had expected avoidance of eyes and to never talk about what transpired this morning.

He was right. Well, half-right. Jaegerjaquez had apparently not gotten the memo.

That trash walked in, comfortable as you please, and acted like nothing was wrong. Like he _hadn't_ just traumatized his host and threw off his whole day because he had been busy worrying about that incident (not that he had).

No, Jaegerjaquez was his normal, boisterous, _annoying_ self. He wasn't sure if he should be irritated or relieved.

"Hey Sexy, you're back. Ya kinda ran out on me this morin'. Shoulda stayed a bit longer. Ya sure know how to give a guy a boner." He laughed.

Irritated, he decided. Very irritated.

This behavior continued in the same vein up until dinner. For example…

"Remove your shoes from my front doorstep. It is unsightly."

"Well, where else 'm I going to put'em?"

"I _do_ own something called a shoebox. Be sure to use it. Your footwear is too big and gets in the way."

A perverse snicker. "Well, ya know what they say 'bout men with big feet…" He waggled his eyebrows in a rather impressive manner.

Ulquiorra smacked him. (He actually had no idea what people say about men with big feet, but if _Jaegerjaquez_ mentioned it, it couldn't have been anything innocent.)

Or…

"Aw, c'mon Sexy! Haven't ya ever wanted to find out?"

"Why in the world would I want to know such an inane thing?"

"My pals and I do this all the time! It's fun, promise!"

"_No._ I have no desire to see if I can stuff a whole chicken leg in my mouth. I know it won't fit anyways."

"Hehe…that's what she said."

After about ten of these 'that's what she said' jokes, Ulquiorra began to suspect that Jaegerjaquez was, perhaps, poking fun at him for this morning.

After that trash continued to leer, make odd comments and stare at him in a mildly disconcerting manner, he concluded that, yes, Jaegerjaquez was making fun of him.

Well then.

He slammed the book he was holding shut and for a few, precious seconds, there was silence. He forced a calm into his voice that he didn't feel and fought to keep his tone level.

"I would have thought that even trash could have _some_ sense of decorum, some meager shred of courtesy. That to the person who was _blackmailed_ into housing and feeding you, you could at least do the favor of _knowing when to shut up._ Apparently, I was completely wrong. You are rude to criminal proportions, have less tact than a rhinoceros, and _cannot seem to process simple messages._"

Some of the words echoed back to him and he realized that he was not as calm as he wanted to believe. But, his words seemed to reach that trash finally, who stood there solemnly (for once) and gave him a long look.

Eventually, he shifted a little and asked, "You feelin' better now?"

Yes. "No."

It felt easier to breathe now, like something in his words released a hidden valve and he suddenly felt…lighter.

It was refreshing.

A couple more deep breathes and he was almost normal again, able to finally reclaim the order that this day lacked.

He eyed the blue-haired eyesore that was still standing in front of him and said rather pointedly, "Most people would take that as their cue that they over-stayed their welcome."

Jaegerjaquez shrugged and causally relaxed into a more languid pose. "Well…ya never actually _told_ me ta leave."

His mouth opened automatically to disagree, then closed as he realized that he had nothing to say to that. He…actually hadn't explicitly _told_ Grimmjow to leave? But, that was preposterous! Surely that was the first thing he…

No?

That mouth curled into a familiar smirk and its owner turned to leave the room. "Love ya too, babe."

Ulquiorra thought that, maybe, he was slowly starting to go insane.

* * *

He loathe to admit it, but…Jaegerjaquez was right.

Suddenly, his routine righted itself and it was like the whole morning incident had never occurred. He could _focus_ again and do things to the best of his ability. His life was back on track.

Which was odd, really, as nothing had actually _changed_, as far as he could tell. There was still trash living in his house, his morning definitely hadn't gotten any better and he had still been early to work that day. Technically, his schedule was still the disaster site it had been at work.

But, going by that logic, nothing would have gone right since the day Grimmjow invited himself over. After all, wasn't his mere presence a deviant from the norm? It didn't make any sense that it was only today that he began feeling so off.

Ulquiorra resisted the urge to outwardly sigh and instead snuck a glance at the trash invading his thoughts sitting (still on the coffee table, go figure) not two feet in front of him. _He_ certainly seemed unbothered by the chaotic mess in Ulquiorra's head, just lounging there, staring off into space, boredly tugging on the edge of a (familiar) blue t-shirt and a (very, very familiar) pair of baggy jeans.

He was getting the strangest sense of déjà vu.

"Did you not bring a change of clothes?"

He could have sworn Jaegerjaquez was wearing the same thing yesterday. And the day before that, for that matter…

Jaegerjaquez blinked himself out of whatever stupor he was in and eyed him weirdly. "Yeah, 'course I did."

"Then why have you not changed?"

A careless shrug. "I change after I shower."

But that didn't make any-

…

_What?_

"You haven't _showered_ in three days?" He couldn't stop the faint tone of revulsion from creeping into his voice. _Really._ That's just…

That trash took in his (barely there) disgusted expression and incredulous look and started to grin in a way that made Ulquiorra want to punch him.

"Why? Does it _bother_ you?"

Well. He'll walk into that trap with eyes wide open. "Of course it does. It's unhygienic."

He'll have to burn that coffee table later. And everything else Grimmjow touched that day. The door, the sofa, the kitchen chair, the…oh God, he was in his _bed_ this morning, wasn't he?

Ulquiorra tried not to cringe visibly. He needed to shower. _Right now._ Or make Jaegerjaquez shower. Whichever came first.

"Oh, come off it, man." The trash laughed. He _laughed_. "Ever'one knows dudes aren't supposed ta shower everyday."

That's…just disgusting.

"You _will_ shower. Soon. Today. _Now_."

Big leer. "What? Ya wanna join me?"

He frowned at him. "Don't be ridiculous." As if the shower can fit more than one person at a time.

Jaegerjaquez gave an (obviously) exaggerated yawn and said, "Eh, then maybe I don' _feel_ like it today. Yer bed's so nice and comfy…"

He twitched. "You are _not_ sleeping in my bed unclean."

A flash of blue eyes and white teeth bared in a feral grin. "So if I _do_ take a shower, I can sleep with you?"

In the time that it took for him to process this (outrageous) claim, Jaegerjaquez had already left for the bathroom, leaving him to gape at an empty room.

That was most certainly _not_ what he meant!

The sound of running water was heard, along with a (surprisingly not that bad) voice singing something about diamonds and stars (it sounded suspiciously like Disney, but that was just too absurd to even consider seriously).

Ulquiorra grudging concluded that, if he were to keep an honest score, Grimmjow's victories would probably outnumber his ten to one.

* * *

**End Notes:** I had so much trouble with this chapter, for whatever reason. Got a major writer's block and started putting it off longer and longer… Yeah, I really don't have an excuse. Bonus points to anyone who can figure out which Disney song was referenced. As always, thank you for reading and feedback would be appreciated. ^^

As an aside, I am rapidly running out of inspiration of the Bleach variety. I've never actually read the manga and don't have the time (or patience) to watch the anime anymore. I was wondering if someone would be kind enough to send me some recommendations for good Bleach fanfics? I'm really not that picky; as long as it's decent, well-written, and has minimal spelling/grammar errors, I'll read it. Thanks for the all the support!


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** I'll Be the Wings

**Author's Note:** School is evil. That is all I have to say on the matter.

As always, thank you all for the wonderful reviews, alerts, and faves! A big, special thank you to everyone who gave recommendations. ^^ The boost in inspiration made me write about half of this chapter in one go.

To everyone who guessed A Whole New World from Aladdin, congratulations! You are correct. Have a (virtual) cookie.

**To an anonymous reviewer:** Just wanted to put this out there, in case anyone else was wondering the same thing. The very beginning of chapter one _will _come back into the story, just not yet, so don't worry, you didn't miss it. ^^ Originally, this story was meant to be maybe five chapters long. Now, it's looking like anywhere from twenty to thirty chapters because I keep having to slow the pace down. So it _will_ come back, just a little later than I had planned. Thanks for asking. ^^

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter One. Oh, but I do own Takeo, I guess. Yay me.

**Warnings:** The usual. See Chapter One for details.

* * *

At the edges of his consciousness before he fully awoke, Ulquiorra was vaguely, uncharacteristically optimistic. Because if third time's the charm didn't work, maybe the fourth will? Four had always been his lucky number, after all. Maybe today will finally be the day when Jaegerjacquez would suddenly realize that _he wasn't wanted here_ and leave.

Then the rest of his mind woke up and whatever hopes he had were dashed.

Honestly, he had put up a veritable pillow _fortress_ between them last night. _Why_ did Jaegerjacquez insist on foiling his every attempt at personal space?

To his credit, he didn't scream. Nor did he jump across the room. No, he was perfectly composed and collected this time around and acted the way that was best suited to the occasion.

He shoved Grimmjow out of the bed and watched him crash onto the floor.

"Argh! What the _hell_, man?"

Really. This worked much better.

* * *

Ulquiorra was in a surprisingly good mood this morning (of course, it had absolutely nothing to do with the satisfying sound Grimmjow made when he hit the floor). He _almost_ started humming while making breakfast, but he refrained on the grounds that Jaegerjacquez would probably send him to a mental institution. He was even generous enough to make two servings this morning and decided (almost) spontaneously that he would like pancakes.

He heard a (rather worrying) crash and several colorful curses coming from the general direction of his bedroom door and frowned. That trash had better not damage anything but himself or he would lock (must remember to get locks) him out. Green eyes glanced toward the bedroom, only to stop halfway and suddenly, whatever remnant of a good mood Ulquiorra had vanished. Because the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall said today was Monday and that really only meant one thing.

School.

Ulquioora _hated_ school. Hated it with every fiber of his being. But not, of course, in the same way that people like Jaegerjacquez hated school. He didn't hate it because it required effort or intelligence (both of which he remains convinced Jaegerjacquez is severely lacking in), but because of the _disorder_ that school usually brought.

On the surface, school is a nice and organized schedule: go to this class at this time and then switch at this time and so on. However, the reality was quite different.

The reality was _chaos_.

There were never two days that were the same, even excluding the haphazard assemblies, the occasional inclement weather and arbitrary testing day schedules. Within the classes themselves, there never seemed to be any rhyme or reason to their activities. One day, they would be taking notes and the next, they might be dissecting frogs. Ulquiorra disliked the utter lack of control he had of his day, only able to go to the same classes and hope they weren't doing anything _too _drastically different. He couldn't even prepare in advance since most teachers seemed to have an unreasonable hatred of anything resembling agendas.

And then there were the people. _Dear Lord_, the people.

If there were ever a batch of people less intelligent than high school students, Ulquiorra had yet to meet them. They were the most inane, superficial and crass individuals he had ever had the misfortune of associating with. He may dislike people as a general principle, but his peers were definitely the worst of the worst.

And since it was, once again, the start of a new week, he had to mingle with this crowd of people for the next eight hours, five days out of seven.

Ulquiorra stared rather mournfully at his calendar and decided they would have cereal for breakfast instead.

* * *

"Hey Sexy."

He frowned as he automatically looked up. He didn't like how naturally he responded to such an atrocious nickname.

"Gimme a ride."

Well, at least this response was also automatic. "No."

"Aw, c'mon Sexy! We're goin' to the same place anyways."

Oh, dear Lord, the whining was back. Jaegerjacquez seemed to think that if he kept nagging at him, Ulquiorra would eventually give in (although it did seem to work quite often...).

"I swear I won' touch anything-" (doubt it) "Or change your favorite radio station or whatever."

"No."

Jaegerjacquez gave a frustrated groan." Geez, didn' take you for the 'love my car' kinda guy. In fact, I pegged ya as more of a 'public transportation' guy."

Ulquiorra frowned at him. He didn't want to be pegged as any 'sort of guy', especially by the likes of Grimmjow. "I don't love my car. I just don't like you."

"Ouch, man." An overdramatic hand over his heart and…well, he would call it a pout, but Jaegerjacquez _pouting_ was just too scary to even contemplate. "That hurts."

He resisted the urge to snort. "I'm sure."

Jaegerjacquez continued, undeterred. "An' here I thought we were gettin' along so _well_. Hanging out together-" Was his voice getting louder? "-eating together-" Yes it was. "-sleepin' toge-"

The car door made a loud noise as he yanked it open. "Shut up and get in the car."

That trash had the audacity to grin at him as he slid into the passenger seat and Ulquiorra had to (grudgingly) accept the fact that, once again, he had lost.

* * *

They hit every red light, stop sign and traffic jam between the house and school. And each managed to take a small eternity to get through.

Or, maybe that was just Ulquiorra.

He had a very strong urge to tap his fingers on the steering wheel as they waited for the light to change. But in this silence, such a noise would be twice as annoying as usual.

Yes, he said 'silence'.

It was almost disconcerting how quiet it was, with only the sound of the engine running in the background. There were no birds chirping outside the car, no sound of other vehicles on the street, no loud children at bus stops…

And of course, Jaegerjacquez was silent too.

He was very irritated when he discovered that a quiet Jaegerjacquez was just as, if not more, annoying than a talkative one. It wasn't that Ulquiorra disliked silence (on the contrary, he _thrived_ in it) but a silent Grimmjow was just _unnatural_, like the sun rising from the west. He was used to Grimmjow making inane comments and conversation. It was perplexing and unnatural and its suddenness was throwing his schedule off (despite the fact that Jaegerjacquez was never in his schedule to begin with…).

He didn't like it. And if it continued for much longer, he would-

"Ya never answered my question."

He couldn't help the startled twitch, but otherwise, hid his surprise very well as he scrambled to recall what exactly Grimmjow was talking about (he didn't ask any questions recently…).

Giving up, he asked, "What question would that be, trash?"

He could almost _feel_ the smirk sent his way and scowled at the steering wheel (he didn't _lose,_ he just forfeited, which was in no way the same thing).

"Why don' you take the bus?"

Wasn't that obvious? "It's noisy. And crowded."

"…so?"

The exasperated sigh made its way past his lips before he could stop himself. "I don't like touching people, Jaegerjacquez. Form your own conclusions."

It was quiet again, but this quiet, Ulquiorra liked marginally better. It wasn't as…stifling. He was just starting to relax, content in the thought that the rest of the journey would be made in comforting peace, when…

"You don't like touching people?"

For the first time since they got in the car, Ulquiorra turned to face Grimmjow fully. Something in the way that those words were said…

He sounded almost…concerned?

He looked it too, serious as Ulquiorra had rarely ever seen him, mouth pulled into an unconscious frown. And suddenly, whatever peace was there moments before evaporated.

Ulquiorra felt uneasy. Jaegerjacquez wasn't supposed to _care_, not about school or authority or opinions or _anything_, especially a random person he met a mere month before. People didn't _change_ just like that. It didn't make any sense.

But apparently, Jaegerjacquez was determined to prove him wrong today. And just when he had been so sure he had finally gotten his personality figured out…

Ulquiorra shifted in his seat and his eyes darted back to the street in front of them. The light was still red.

"I would think that was obvious, trash." How many times had he told him not to touch him (and then punched him when he didn't listen)?

How long have they been waiting for that light to change?

"Hey. Look at me."

It was only because the situation seemed so surreal that he obeyed. Really.

Grimmjow was still as serious as before (wasn't acting or making fun of him and who knew Ulquiorra would actually _miss_ that?), frown growing more pronounced the longer they sat there staring at each other.

"Listen." He wet his lips in an almost nervous gesture (but Jaegerjacquez can't be _nervous_, he didn't _do_ nervous). "You…you weren't…"

Ulquiorra instinctively did not want him to finish that question. It felt too… intimate, too personal for this relationship of theirs. And if Jaegerjacquez asked, he feared that something instrumental would change irreparably.

"Were you-"

_HONK!_

They both jerked, eyes wide and startled, forcibly pulled from their own little world that Ulquiorra hadn't even realized they'd gone into. Reflexively, he stepped on the gas pedal and they launched forward, toward the light that had (apparently) finally changed.

Jaegerjacquez didn't attempt to finish his question, but he still couldn't help wondering. What was he going to ask…?

Eventually, he put that out of mind and focused instead on the more pressing problem. What were they going to do now? The newest silence that cropped up was as thick as molasses and they still had another three minutes of driving left.

He was speaking before he had fully decided what to say. "People are garbage and no one voluntarily touches garbage. There is nothing more to it."

A short pause. And then…

He felt the puff of air, could imagine the smirk that went with it, and suddenly, he was relaxing again, crisis averted.

"S'not true. What about the garbage man?"

Ulquiorra could feel the familiar headache coming on and the twitch in his fingers. He was _almost_ glad (but only almost).

* * *

Entering the student parking lot, Ulquiorra nearly hit three people, almost got into an accident at least twice and found out that someone stole his parking spot, so he took another (to the curses of its owner).

But this was normal (he _was_ a safe driver, but that got you nowhere in high school), so he didn't let it bother him.

"Didn' know you could drive like that."

Grimmjow, as always, was unfazed.

" 'specially liked the part where ya chased after that one guy screaming his head off."

He _would_ sound impressed at something like that.

Ulquiorra frowned and carefully locked the car before walking toward the school entrance, Jaegerjacquez following him in some parody of a loyal pet.

"I was not 'chasing after' him. He just happened to run in the wrong direction."

A bark of laughter. "Damn! Didn' take you for the sadistic type."

He tried to figure out if that was a compliment or not. He certainly didn't _think_ he had any hidden sadistic tendencies, but…

Something solid, heavy, and warm dropped across his shoulders. Jaegerjacquez's voice was suddenly a lot closer than it was moments ago. "I'll be sure to do some S&M play. 'Though, don' think it works with two S's and no M's…"

Ulquiorra didn't even bother trying to decipher that statement. 'S&M' could be anything from a band to a clothing store and he would never know. In any case, the more pressing issue…

"Did I not just explain this to you? I do not want people touching me."

Moments after the words left his mouth, he wondered if he shouldn't have brought it up. It felt like their previous exchange became a taboo topic of sorts. It had been so solemn and surreal that it felt _wrong_ to bring it up in every day conversation…

Grimmjow apparently had no such misgivings. "Ya said you don' like 'garbage' touchin' you. But I'm 'trash' so I can, right?"

…

He actually had to stop at that statement and stare at the _absolute imbecile_ that said it.

"Are you daft? 'Garbage' and 'trash' are the same thing."

Jaegerjacquez itched the skin under his right eye with the arm he wasn't using to trap him.

"I don' know…everybody else is 'garbage', but you only call me 'trash'. Tha's, like, a step up, right?"

What? Really? He never noticed…

"More like a step down."

The arm brought him closer (the one and _only_ reason it was still attached to its owner was because it was February and, therefore cold out and Grimmjow felt like some kind of furnace with that ridiculously high body temperature) and he said, "Aw, ya know ya love me, Sexy."

There was a scathing remark on the tip of his tongue when an unfamiliar voice from behind interrupted his chain of thought.

"Damn, it's Grimmjow! Holy shit man, what you doin' here on a Monday?"

That trash turned his head and returned that moronic greeting, complete with idiotic, 'manly' monikers and all.

"Hey Takeo. S'up?"

Oh, he could cringe at their complete butchering of the spoken language…

As Grimmjow attempted to turn around (and by extension, turn _him _around), Ulquiorra dug his feet into the ground and refused to cooperate. It was childish and immature, but it would (hopefully) get that _thing_ off his shoulder, so he will stoop to Jaegerjacquez's level (just this once).

His efforts did nothing to deter the ongoing 'conversation'.

"Not much. How 'bout you?"

"Not bad, not bad."

"So, seriously dude. Why you here?" The voice (Takeo?) was getting closer, apparently having figured out that Grimmjow was not turning around (or couldn't, Ulquiorra noted with no small sense of satisfaction).

"Wait…is _this_ the reason you here today? _Damn_. Dude, introduce us! That is one _fine_ piece of-"

Ah, so that's who Takeo was. Turns out Ulquiorra _did_ recognize him (sort of. Vaguely). Well, he saw him in the hallways, occasionally. He was pretty sure he wasn't usually this pale, though, and he sounded like he was choking…

Ulquiorra noted that he looked very nervous, for whatever reason. His eyes kept flitting from him to Grimmjow, then to some point over Ulquiorra's shoulder.

"You…I mean-"

That trash's arm tightened a bit and he didn't have to look to see the smug look on his face (the why, though, escaped him). "Introductions? A'right then. Takeo, this is Sexy. Say hi, Sexy."

He was just asking for that elbow in the gut.

* * *

If Ulquiorra had to define hell on earth, he would call it 'high school'. Primary reason? The hallways.

They were narrow and crowded, filled with the stink of overwhelming perfume and sweat, along with the bodies they belonged to.

Honestly. High school was a cesspool for human refuse in the form of teenagers. And the less time Ulquiorra spent among them, the better.

So of course, his locker was the furthest point away from the entrance of the school, all of his classes, and basically any place he would ever frequent within the building.

His pace, as always, was brisk and purposeful, despite the masses of people in the halls that didn't seem to want to move. Normally, it would take about two minutes to get to his locker, so…

_64…58…09…_

Neatly stacked textbooks arranged by class atop a small shelf. A jacket hanging on the small hook on the right. Binders along the bottom, color-coded and arranged by size.

His sanctuary, so to speak, within the school building. Now, if only it weren't so far away from _everything_…

"Um…Ulquiorra?"

Inwardly, he started and tried to match a face to the voice (which he failed, unsurprisingly. He had no great memory for voices) before turning around.

His co-worker from yesterday (still can't recall her name…) stood before him, fiddling with something in her hands that required a lot of attention as she didn't glance up as he turned to face her.

Odd. He didn't know she went to this school…

"Ah…sorry to trouble you. Um, well, you were acting kind of weird yesterday, so…um, are you feeling better today?"

He blinked and remembered her concern from the day before, recalling also (with some chagrin) the strange behavior she was referring to.

"I am fine."

"Oh!" She moved her fingers a little faster. "Um…that's, that's good…"

For a few moments, he heard only the sounds in the hallways (and there was no shortage of those), as he stared down at the crown of her head and wondered what exactly she was waiting for.

"Orihime!" (Ah! That was her name.) "Orihime, where are you? Ori - oh."

They both turned to face the black-haired girl (he was _positive_ he had never seen her before) standing some three feet away, carrying two bags and what looked like a poster.

"Tatsuki! Oh, I'm sorry I totally forgot about the project!" She spun back to look at him, "Um, I'll see you later, okay? Bye!" And with a hesitant smile and wave, she left with her friend.

Ulquiorra wondered, somewhat irritably, how many other surprises today would throw at him.

* * *

"But never met this fellow…"

_Tick…tick…tick…_

"Attended or alone, without a tighter breathing…"

_Tick…tick…tick…_

"And zero at the bone."

To his eternal disappointment, Ulquiorra found that staring down the clock did not, in fact, make time pass any quicker.

Sitting in first block Literature class, listening to his teacher drone (maybe not _drone_. Professor Kyoraku did a lot of things, but droning was not one of them) on about something he deemed completely worthless, he didn't even bother to appear like he was paying attention. This class was a waste of his time and, was it not required, he would never have set foot in the door.

It had always been his opinion that literature was one of those subjects that one either got or didn't, and that was that. So far, he hadn't been proven wrong.

Because this subject had no formulas or set processes or even any rhyme or reason to it. It was completely and utterly illogical and Ulquiorra found it comparable to the ninth circle of Hell: the absolute worst of an already bad situation.

"Now, the essay prompts are coming around. I want five hundred words or more on why the poet decided to structure that particular line the way she did. How does it add to the meaning of the poem as a whole and what, in your own words, does it mean?"

He looked at the slip of paper and cursed whatever gods were listening.

_You may have met him,-did you not,  
His notice sudden is._

He hadn't the faintest idea what that meant. Mechanically, he picked up the pencil. Well, when in doubt…

_The poet uses this particular structure for this line because…_

_Because her grammar sucks?_

Ulquiorra felt rather inclined to agree with the sarcastic little voice that was hopefully just a product of frustration and not the first sign of insanity.

Then he realized it sounded remarkably like Grimmjow's voice and decided that, yes, this was insanity.

* * *

_RING!_

There was a faint chorus of muted groans and signs of relief.

"Well, seeing as how absolutely _none _of you were able to complete the lab within the allotted time, I suppose you will simply have to find the data online and do it for homework. Now, I suggest – oh, don't groan at me. You brought it upon yourselves. So don't forget for tomorrow. Class dismissed."

Ulquiorra's lab partner all but bolted through the door, leaving him with the task of cleaning up.

It wasn't like he particularly minded or anything as he was in no great hurry to be crushed in the lunchtime traffic, but he didn't like how his partner simply _assumed_ he would clean up. He wasn't anyone's maid.

"Cifer." He looked up at his teacher and fought the irrational shiver going down his spine. Professor Kurotsuchi was…rather disconcerting. "I see your lab partner has abandoned you once again."

As his partner was obviously not here, he didn't feel the need to say anything to that.

Kurotsuchi sighed. "Fine then. This one time, I will clean up, but make sure Asano knows that, if this happens again, he will get a detention. You may go."

He blinked. That was unexpected. "Thank you, professor."

Ulquiorra could still hear the loud voices and footsteps from the halls and wondered if he could loiter around for a little longer. He usually stayed after purposefully to avoid the giant crowds of people.

But there wasn't any helping it today. If the professor went so far as to offer to clean up, that clearly meant he was in some sort of hurry.

Shouldering his bag, he walked through the doorway, mentally preparing himself for another battle against the hordes of-

"Yo Sexy. Sure took yer sweet time."

He twitched but didn't stop walking. "Do you plan on making a habit of following me?"

For some reason, Jaegerjacquez's footsteps were clearly audible, even amongst the din of the other students. "Ouch! Ya make it sound like I'm not wanted."

If he were so inclined, he would have rolled his eyes. Must Grimmjow be so melodramatic?

He felt more than saw Jaegerjacquez pull level with him and attempt to place an arm over his shoulders.

Ulquiorra kicked him in the shin and he (wisely) decided against it after all.

On the familiar trek to his locker, he idly listened to Grimmjow's various greetings to what seemed to be half the student population, calling them all by name and even knowing tidbits of information regarding their personal lives.

He was (grudgingly) impressed. Perhaps there was a brain under all that muscle after all.

* * *

The library greeted him with a much needed quiet and the smell of leather, aged paper and ink. As always, it was the highlight of his day, to be immersed in its hushed atmosphere and air of knowledge.

Normally, the idea of bringing food or drink into a library would appall him, but the librarians hadn't seemed to mind and he needed a secluded place to eat. So Ulquiorra established the habit very early on in his high school career of spending his lunchtime in the far left corner of the library where there were several armchairs and a small coffee table. Now, that corner was his refuge from all the chaos that school brought.

If only that blue eyesore wasn't following him in, it would have been perfect.

As always, Ulquiorra greeted the librarian with a small nod on his way in and headed back to the corner immediately, ignoring the trash trying to talk his ear off.

Taking out his lunch, he frowned when he noticed that, along with his usual fork and spoon, he had also (subconsciously) packed a pair of chopsticks. While the fact that he didn't remember putting them there bothered him quite a bit (implying things that he definitely never wanted to think about), it was for whom they were (undoubtedly) meant for that he found the most disconcerting.

"Sweet. You remembered." And they were stolen from his hand, along with a good portion of his food.

Jaegerjacquez insisted on using chopsticks for every meal possible for some reason that Ulquiorra didn't trouble himself to remember (" 'm half-Japanese" and he stared incredulously at the _blue_ hair and eyes) and was even brazen enough to give him a bag of disposable chopsticks with the remark, "Ya might need these."

(Really. The nerve.)

"Is it beyond your mental capacity to pack your own lunch?"

A shrug. " 's all your food anyway. Don' see how it matters. 'sides, you can't eat this much."

He _had_ packed a little extra, but only because he knew Jaegerjacquez would steal some.

"Perhaps I was hungry." (A weak argument and he knew it, but at this moment he couldn't be troubled to think of a better one.)

Jaegerjacquez paused and eyed him for a second before suddenly announcing, "Well, ya _are_ skinny as fuck" and shoved a food-laden bite in front of Ulquiorra's mouth with a (distinctly malicious) grin. "Eat up."

Ulquiorra told Jaegerjacquez to cease his nonsense before he decided that trash was much better off without arms.

Or, he would have, if that trash hadn't taken that moment to push the food into his mouth.

Ulquiorra's first reaction was surprise. Followed closely by disgust (those chopsticks were _used_ and they just went into his _mouth_ and- ). He debated spitting it out ( -it was unsanitary, _revolting_- ), but wasting food was not in his nature ( -been in someone else's _mouth_, with _bacteria_- ) so he eventually swallowed it with much more difficulty than such an action warranted.

"I will kill you," he announced and took several (very large) gulps of water.

He was irritated (but not surprised) when Jaegerjacquez just laughed.

"Ulquiorra." He looked up to meet the stern gaze of the school librarian. "May I speak with you for a minute?"

This was certainly unexpected. Despite the countless hours he spent in here, he could count the number of times he's spoken with the woman in charge of it on one hand.

It was going to be a day of surprises, wasn't it?

Leaving Jaegerjacquez with a warning not to touch anything he wasn't supposed to (namely, his food), he stood by the desk patiently until she met his gaze.

"Forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, but I couldn't help but notice that Grimmjow has been…following you around lately." She adjusted her glasses. "Is he bothering you?"

He wasn't entirely certain why she would ask, but if he thought about his answer…

Jaegerjacquez calling him at random times throughout the day (and night). Tracking him down at school and constantly annoying him. Blackmailing his way into his house. Stealing his food. Using his bed. In his car. Taking his keys.

The answer should have been obvious. And yet…

And yet, Ulquiorra couldn't say yes.

"No," he said finally. "He is not bothering me." She searched his face for a bit, but then nodded slowly, believing him (but it wasn't true, _can't_ be true) and apologizing for interrupting his lunch.

Numbly, he sat back down and the cause of his problem (_always _the cause) looked up, mouth full of (_his_) food.

"Wha'd she wan'?"

Slowly, Ulquiorra started to resume what he originally came here to do.

"Nothing important."

* * *

It was 2:45 and he was still at school.

It was _2:45_ and he was still at school.

It was 2:45 and he was _still at school._

No matter how many times he turned that phrase over in his head, it never sounded right. Because it _wasn't_ right. Right now, he should be in the living room with a strong cup of tea and the ever present stack of homework.

So why was he sitting in his car, staring out at the rapidly emptying parking lot?

Perhaps, he rationalized, his subconscious was trying to send him a message. Had he forgotten something? A textbook, maybe? (But he _never_ forgot- ) Did he have to make up a test? (But he wasn't absent recently…)

He should check his bag. It was probably (maybe, not likely) a missing textbook. He supposed it _could_ happen.

And he would have, if he hadn't remembered that his bag was in the trunk. Which would mean he would have to step out of the car. Which is really counterproductive to him _leaving_. Although, if he was missing someth-

The passenger door opened with a noisy (can't he do anything quietly?) bang and Ulquiorra was surprised at how…_unsurprised_ he was (not that he was expecting this. Of course not).

"Hey Sexy. Nice of ya ta wait for me."

He most certainly _did not_. But Jaegerjacquez's entrance had made him forget about what he was missing so he could finally go home (hopefully the textbook wasn't very important).

The car started with a loud roar.

"Don't take so long next time."

* * *

The doorbell rang and Ulquiorra wondered just _how_ many interruptions he would have to suffer through today.

Honestly. Someone must really want to mess up his day at every conceivable moment.

He considered not answering it for the briefest of seconds before another ring (impatient aren't we?) echoed through the house.

He hoped it wasn't the girl scouts selling cookies again (they cried too much and he never liked sweets in the first place).

The door swung open and Ulquiorra blinked up at the tall, dark-haired (was that an _eyepatch_?) man on his front door step, whom he has _certainly_ (it _was_ an eyepatch) never seen before.

The man blinked (winked?) back at him.

"You ain't Grimmjow."

He wasn't quite sure how to respond (well, of course he wasn't Grimmjow) to that and was saved by said trash appearing from a back room.

"Yo Nnoitra. Yer here."

…Jaegerjacquez was _expecting_ him?

He faced his (very, very, _very_ unwelcome) houseguest. "I would thank you to take your meetings elsewhere."

Blue eyes blinked back. "Wha?"

Imbecile. "_Do not tell people where I live._"

He rolled his eyes. "Jeez, ya paranoid or what? Relax, Nnoitra's just pickin' me up for work."

…work?

Grimmjow abruptly hit his forehead. "Aw, crap. Forgot ta mention. Yea, I'm working 'til midnight today. And, er…I'm leavin' now."

Ulquiorra glanced at the clock. '5:45,' it read.

He had a whole _six hours_ free of this blue menace? He could _weep_ with joy.

Grimmjow snorted. "Well, ya didn' have ta look so fucking _happy_ about it."

No, he must definitely had to. "Language," he reprimanded automatically.

Unsurprisingly, he was ignored. "Yeah, yeah."

Ulquiorra glanced pointedly at the clock and said, "Perhaps you should get going."

Big grin. "Aw, worried I'll be late? Don' worry, _Honey_, I'll be good."

The names were getting worse and worse. "Repeat that and I will castrate you."

"Love ya, too. Now, where's my goodbye kiss…?" He started leaning forward and Ulquiorra slammed the door shut.

Due to the laughter that he could still hear, he had not (unfortunately) done any permanent damage.

"Don' wait up!" that trash called and then it was finally quiet.

Wait up? For that trash?

Ridiculous.

* * *

**End Notes:** Holy crap, fifteen pages. I would be proud of myself, but I feel like a walking corpse. Near the end, writing this was like pulling teeth. Ugh. Whoever can name the poem that Ulquiorra had to analyze gets more virtual cookies ('cause I know that's what everyone wants). Thank you all for reading and feedback would be appreciated. ^^

On a different note, I want to ask if anyone has any opinions on the side pairings. I haven't really decided on any yet, so I thought I'd ask for some input. Not all the characters have made an appearance yet, but I promise that there will (eventually) be more people, so you could pretty much pick any pairing within reason. Any thoughts?


End file.
